Lightning Over The Western Front
by Rio137
Summary: 6th June. 1944. 101st Airborne drop behind German lines to do what they do best. Move fast, hit hard and cause major havoc and destruction for the enemy. (First Fic. Future Past Setting. May turn M later on. R&R)
1. Night Drop

6 June

1944

Normandy, France

00:51

High up in the clouds above northern France, a flight of C-47 Dakotas flew, their bellies filled with men of the 101st airborne division. The drone of the plane's engines and the rattling of its frame surrounded them as they sat in the dark, waiting.

One trooper struggled with his lighter, cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth. Getting out of his seat and stooping low he bellowed over the din. "Give me a light!"

He obliged pulling a light from his field jackets chest pocket. Igniting it he lit his fellow trooper's cigarette. Next to him another trooper was fiddling with his own harness, wrenching it about his shoulders. He stopped, leaving his harness alone when he caught his CO watching him silently from the C-47s open door.

1st Lieutenant Garen Winter's turned the trooper next to him.

"Did Violet and Ro make it?" he shouted over the C-47s engines.

"Yes, sir! They're in Sergeant Lito's stick, sir!"

"Ok!

Winter's looked out of the plane's open hatch at the clouds rushing past to the faces of the men under his command, taking note of how each one was dealing with the strain in their own way. One would tap the top of cigarettes against his lighter; another would rub his hands together while the guy next to him prayed to his god.

The plane reverberated with a close but small explosion that made every trooper start.

Winters slowly clipped the straps of his net covered helmet together as a red light filled the hold. Standing up to address his men, he took in a deep breath. "Get ready!" All troopers lifted their hooks in their right hands.

"Stand up!"

The aisle filled with a single line of troopers with hooks in hand.

"Hook up!"

Hooks clipped onto the single steel wire above their heads.

"Equipment check!" he shouted patting his shoulder straps.

Troopers checked themselves over for loose ends and gear.

"Sound off for equipment check!"

The trooper at the end of the line checked himself over, then the parachute gear of the man in front of him. He slapped him on the shoulder when he had finished, shouting "Ten ok!"

The call was repeated along the line until Winters himself shouted "One ok!"

The planes finally emerged from the cloud bank onto a swathe of open fields.

All hell broke loose.

The night sky was dotted with flashes and the _ack-ack-ack _of AA batteries as they fired up at the planes. Explosions from the shells buffeted the planes, causing the soldiers within untold amounts of discomfort.

A shell detonated a foot away from the plane's right wing. The plane was thrown sideways by the sudden blast throwing troopers about the hold. As his men scrambled about, Winters picked himself up stumbling over to the open door. Reaching it, he had to shield his eye's as a stream of tracer rounds fizzled past the hatch, the last one nicking the wing of the plane - then a white ball of light and shrapnel swallowed him.

Sergeant Lito's C-47 bucked and jerked through the sky, buffeted by close shaves with AA fire.

"Jesus Christ! Let's go! Let's go!" A trooper hollered further along the line.

Lito leaned back shouting. "Does that light look green to you!"

The trooper continued to shout frantically. "Let's g- augghh!" a round slammed into the belly of the plane under the trooper. They screamed as red hot shrapnel sliced into them. "I'm hit! Gaaahhhaaa!"

A few hundred feet above them a C-47 took a round through its port engine. A growing orange glow caught its pilot's eye. The pit of his stomach fell away at the sight of fire pouring from the engine.

"Get em out of there!" he ordered as he wrestled with the failing machine. The engine made an ominous screeching as the rotor stopped spinning altogether then blew. The following explosion ripped through the planes fuel lines into the hold.

The co-pilot of Lito's plane screamed "2 o'clock!"

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" hissed the pilot wrestling with the joystick to avoid the flaming plane. Getting the plane back on its correct course he looked out the small cockpit window, tracking the doomed transport on its fiery descent, flaming specks dropped out the planes hatch every few second's moments before it plunged into a dry field.

Throughout the cloud of explosions and streams of anti-aircraft fire, hundreds of C-47 Dakotas disgorged their holds of paratroopers into the night sky, the weak light of the moon highlighting dozens of parachutes as they descended.

"Go! Move!" Sergeant Lito roared shoving the last able man out of the hatch.

"Let me jump, sir!" The wounded trooper begged from their seat.

"Don't listen to that shit and move, Hunt!" the sergeant ordered the other trooper standing over the wounded. "You are staying on this plane, Private!"

"The wounds are skin deep, sir!" Hunt replied.

"All right!" Lito grimaced before leaping out of the hatch into the void.

"Come on Ro', we're going to miss the drop zone!" Hunt urged gently pushing the trooper towards the hatch.

"Son of a bitch." the wounded trooper groaned as they forced their feet forwards. Reaching the hatch they stepped into the darkness.

The co-pilot of Winters' C-47 swore as shrapnel pinged against the windscreen cracking it. "Where's the goddamn DZ!"

The pilot glanced down at his shaking instruments. "Maybe three more minutes on this bearing!"

A singed Lt Winters stuck his head out of the blast scorched hatch, staring at the ground as it slowly but surely rose towards him.

"We get any lower, we ain't gonna need any frigging parachutes!" A trooper shouted from the darkness of the C-47s belly.

"Slow down!" The Co-pilot shouted seeing the speedometer rise quickly.

The pilot pulled back on the stick causing the plane to nose up slightly. "We gotta get some altitude!"

"They can't jump at this speed!"

One of Winters troopers peered out the planes view port next to him as the lines of AA fire streaked across the night sky. White light filled the view port as a stray round blew meters away, rocking the plane and throwing him away from it.

"We there!?" queried the Co-pilot.

A 20mm round from a flak 38 gun emplacement thumped into the side of the cockpit. On impact the shell fragmented, sending large chunks of shrapnel in every direction. A shard tore through the plane into the co-pilots skull, blowing the side of his head away leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

The corpse slumped forward slinging blood over the cockpit's instruments. "Oh God, NO!" the pilot exclaimed flicking a switch in the bank above his head.

The light in the hold changed from red to green.

The mood in the hold changed instantly as the moment to jump was upon them.

Winter's took in a deep breath as he laid his hands on each side of the hatch's frame. "Let's go!" he shouted throwing himself out of the C-47. Winters felt the familiar jerk of his parachute as it opened, gradually slowing his descent. Looking between his boots he saw the burning remains of a C-47 beneath him. Avoiding the inferno, he glided towards an opening in a nearby forest.

Winters landed gently in area of patchy tall grass surrounded by silent trees. Unhooking his parachute he reached for his gear. Where there should have been a rifle all he got was a sheared rope which he threw away angrily. He squinted from the flashes of a nearby AA gun as it fired nearby.

In the darkness he heard faint rustling. Drawing his K-Bar combat knife he made his way cautiously towards the disturbance, knife ready to thrust.

Kneeling in the shadow of a bush he hissed "Flash!"

"Shit!" was the reply he got. Running low he crouched down next to the trooper struggling with his tangled chute.

"I don't think that's the correct reply trooper." He said disapprovingly undoing the strap of his own helmet. "I say flash, you say thunder."

"Yes sir, thunder sir!" the trooper rushed untangling himself from the chute. Winters lay his helmet down pulling his life unused life jacket off throwing into a patch of brush.

"Musette bag?" Winters asked going through the Troopers gear.

"Gone sir."

"Leg bag?"

The trooper stuffed his helmet back on with Thompson in hand.

"Prop blast got it, sir, and my radio and batteries with it."

Winters sighed angrily. "Mine, too. Landed somewhere behind those tree's….Okay." Winters said donning his helmet. "Follow me."

The pair only made it a few steps before an MG42 spat tracer fire across their path 20 meters ahead.

Winters about turned as rounds started to split the air above them. "To hell with that!" he said running from the gun emplacement. The pair ran through a small field of tall grass into a small thicket. Winters slowed up as mirrored by the trooper. There was an AA gun ahead of them firing into the sky at the rest of the armada.

"Wait until they reload." He whispered.

The firing stopped and cries in German to reload sounded as men rushed about the gun.

"Go!"

The pair disappeared into the shadows of the forest, heading away from the gun.

"What's your name trooper?"

"Rode, sir.

Winters and the trooper walked at a steady pace through the forest, keeping to the shadows of the trees around them. "Aren't you with D company?" he asked quietly watching the darkness about them.

"Able, sir." Rode replied avoiding an exposed tree root. "Guess that means one of us is in the wrong DZ, sir."

"Yeah, or both of us."

"Do you have a weapon, sir?"

Winters ran his hand over his knife. "Just my blade."

Both stopped in their tracks as rifle and machine gun fire erupted in the distance.

"Do you have any idea where we are, sir?" the trooper asked with fear creeping into his voice. Winters looked in the direction of the gunfire, glancing down at the shaken trooper.

"Some."

Moving off again, Winters resumed the hushed conversation "So, you're a radioman?"

Rode sighed heavily. "Yes, sir. Well I was until I lost my radio in the jump. I'm sure I'll get chewed out for that." A look of resignation covered the young soldiers face as he thought of the coming punishment.

"Well, if you were in my platoon, I'd tell you were a rifleman first, radioman second."

"Well maybe you could tell that to my platoon leader," said Rode. "When we find him. If we find him."

"It's a deal. First I need your help. Locate some landmarks to get our bearings. Keep your eyes peeled for buildings, farmhouses, bridges, roads…trees."

Rode and Winters laughed quietly as they continued towards the edge of the forest.

"I wonder if the rest are as lost as we are…."

Winters shook his head. "We're not lost Private. We're in Normandy."


	2. Shots In The Dark

Winters' boots crunched softly as he walked down a moon lit dirt road, avoiding the large puddles covering it. Hearing a disturbance across the stream to the left of the road Winters and Rode slipped into the cover of a nearby fence.

The lieutenant looked around the edge of the fence keeping his eye on the adjacent bank. Drawing his clicker from a pocket he pressed it once. A single click rang out. Waiting anxiously for a reply Rode levelled his Thompson at the bush.

Two soft clicks echoed from the other bank as a man, clad in the uniform of the 101st stepped forth from the low hanging bush into the knee deep stream.

"Who's that?" Winter hissed trying to identify the man. The man stopped in his tracks, head turning to locate the voice.

"Lieutenant Winters, is that you?"

Winters moved from the cover of the fence, Rode in tow. Upon seeing Winters the man turned ushering two more troopers from the bush. Winters kneeled as the three men jogged across the stream towards them. One crouched down next to him. He recognized the man, it was Sergeant Lito.

"Any weapon?" Winters asked in a hushed voice.

Lito shook his head. "No, sir. I hit the prop blast, no more leg bag." He said pulling his gloves off, stuffing them in a chest pocket. "All I got is my knife and some TNT."

"These 82nd boys got their M-1's, though" He added nodding at the other two silent paratroopers.

Rode slapped the butt of his Thompson in frustration. "Man, 82nd! Where the heck are we?!" Winters cast an unimpressed look at the young private though it was missed in the darkness. Even so, the kid was right. The situation was starting to look bleak already.

"Sir, I saw a sign back thataways." Lito's voice brought him back to the present. "It said Sainte-Mere-Eglise."

Winters stabbed his sheathed knife into the wet soil then reached for his flies. The two 82nd troopers exchanged confused looks as the 1st Lt produced a small compass from his zipper.

"Always keep a spare." Winters said quietly checking it still worked. "Flashlight." Lito handed him his torch. "Raincoat?"

Sgt Lito shook his head.

"You gotta a rain coat?" he asked the 82nd troopers. The trooper with the Garand slung it over his shoulder then reached into his partners pack. Handing the coat to the Sergeant, Lito draped it over Winters head leaving him to read the map with what little he had.

A minute later Winters sat up again. "We're about seven kilometres from our objective, and four hours away from when we need to have it secured." Winter handed Lito his map back to him. "So, we got a lot of walking ahead of us. You men stick with us till we find your unit." With the brief over, Winters strode ahead into the darkness with Rode close behind.

"Hey, Sarge, where we going?" one of the 82nd asked as they followed.

"Causeway number 2, Utah Beach. Germans flooded the fields inland; we don't clear those routes, our boys' ain't goin nowhere."

The trooper looked confused. "The five of us ain't gonna hold a road." He said under his breath.

"That looey don't even have a weapon…"

Four troopers of the 101st walked steadily down a dark railroad illuminated in parts by the moon. "I don't remember hearing about any railroads near our objective." One said in an annoyed manner.

"I'm telling you Jack, this is the spur line that runs parallel to the river." Another added coolly. "We should be coming up to a road and bridge ahead."

The trooper narrowed his eyes at the other man. "Yeah, how would you know that, Frank?"

"Because I studied the maps, all right Fowler?"

The trooper on point raised his arm. The four men stopped and crouched. Fowler moved forwards towards the lead man. "Probably a friggin' train or –"

"Flash!" came a voice from the groups rear. All four men spun to meet it, weapons at the ready. "Thunder!" Fowler replied quickly as a group of shadows left the side of the road and moved towards him.

"Lieutenant, is that you?"

Winters nodded at Fowler in greeting. "Jack."

"Sir." Fowler replied with a grin.

The small groups of troopers intermingled with a shaking of hands and slapping of backs. Winters walked behind a trooper who stood away from the rest.

"Sergeant DeWitt."

The trooper turned around to face him. "Sir?"

"You and Rode up front." He said before walking back to the group to brief them on the situation at hand.

"Who the hell is Rode." DeWitt grumbled quietly to himself kicking a stone into the undergrowth.

The stone tumbled through the bush landing next to two pairs of leather jack boots. Two sets of eyes glinted in the darkness as they watched the leader of the American's surreptitiously. When the group eventually moved off, the watchers followed.

Rode was point man for the nine men as they followed the railroad. The only sounds to be heard were the crunching of stone beneath their boots and clanging when their boots caught on the railroad itself.

A horse whinnied off in the distance.

Rode raised a hand for the team to stop. Winters ran low between the lines up to a fence on the left side of the track and looked between the slats. A German patrol was coming towards them. Moving back across the line he crouched next to a stone pillar.

"Lito! Go! DeWitt!" Winter's signalled to the team to go down the opposite bank of the bridge. The men streamed down the steep slope and set up around the exit of the tunnel.

"Wait for my command." Winters whispered to the men, raising his arm. The sound of horse harnesses jangling was the first to be heard, then the horses appeared and the men who rode and walked beside them.

The German's were in loose order obviously not expecting trouble so far away from the beaches. That was until DeWitt sidestepped from the shadows, Thompson at his shoulder.

DeWitt fired at the German driving the horse drawn cart first. .45 calibre rounds at such close range tore through the man's chest up into the roof of the tunnel where they ricocheted off the roof into the walls then man and beast alike. The other paratroopers opened fire with what weapons they had, pouring more death and fire into the confined space.

"Grenade! Grenade!" a trooper cried before tossing the pear sized explosive at the cart. It went off sending shards of twisted metal into the already panicked horses. The man sitting next to the driver stood up blindly screaming he'd surrendered. A pair of .30-06 rounds punched into his head silencing his cries.

DeWitt strode forward into the slaughter taking men down in short bursts. When his Thompson ran dry he switched to his side arm, putting shots into everything that moved. He alone continued to fire and reload after everyone else had stopped.

"That's enough, DeWitt!" Winters shouted spinning the man around. DeWitt stared hard into the officers eyes.

"Everyone ok?"

Replies of "ok" and "fine" met his question.

"Next time I say wait for my command, you wait for my command Sergeant."

There was a tense moment as both men stared at each other in silence. DeWitt broke it. "Yes" he paused before adding "Sir" with clear defiance in his eyes.

A single shot rang out from above them and the horses screams stopped abruptly. They both looked up at the bridge to see an unhappy looking Blackburn re-holster his sidearm.

Sgt Lito walked up beside Winter handing him a Kar98 rifle. "Here you go Lieutenant, Kraut weapon."

Winters took it then walked away to the other waiting men. DeWitt pulled the empty magazine from his Thompson, throwing it away angrily.

"Fine, Quaker…." DeWitt growled slotting a new magazine in as he followed.


	3. New Orders

The small band of bedraggled troopers waded through a flooded field as the dawn light gradually filled the morning sky with an orange glow. Blackburn slapped at a mosquito as it dared to land on his exposed neck. Pretending to forget, the insect made another approach. This time he watched as it closed in.

"You see him? He just sat there." DeWitt muttered darkly pulling his boot from the sticky mud beneath him.

Blackburn grunted in discomfort applying too much power to the slap. "He didn't have a weapon." He said wiping the smear of green blood off on his torn trousers. "What was he going to do? Shout at them."

DeWitt snorted in derision at the comment, swiping at the midges harrying him. "Shouts at me for killing Krauts."

Blackburn shrugged in response not having the energy to keep the conversation going. "He just wanted you to wait for his command."

"Frank, he don't even drink." DeWitt stated in a matter of fact manner looking back at his fellow paratrooper. Blackburn smiled knowingly as they left the bog for dryer land.

The nine men cautiously stepped out from the treeline they'd been following for the last hour into an opening. In front of the group lay a smouldering barn house. Winters called for the men to stop, all going to a knee.

"Lito! Ferguson!" he called waving them forwards. The pair moved up crouched low as they passed the corpses of bullet ridden cows towards the smoking remains of the barn.

Stepping over the charred remains of a cow, Lito surveyed the carnage. A smoking truck lay to his left while cows plodded about unaware of the destruction around them. Two dead German soldiers lay face down in the under growth a short distance away, their backs pockmarked by gunshot wounds. Lito turned to Winters giving the all clear sign.

Winter's ushered the group forward.

From a nearby tree a deceased trooper of the 101st hung, swaying gently in his harness. Winter's looked the corpse up and down then slung his rifle over his shoulder to go through its gear.

"Anybody need supplies and ammo, now's the time to get it." Sgt Lito said as he rifled a dead American troopers gear.

Sgt Lito looked up at the men as they passed by. He noticed there was one less amongst them. "MacNeil! You okay?" he called to the 82nd trooper as he stood watching Lieutenant Winters taking the dead troopers rifle.

MacNeil snapped out of his trance. "Yes sergeant."

"Well, let's go."

Winters finished undoing the sling for the Garand pulling it free from its deceased owner. Taking the troopers bandoliers he looked around at the desolation wrought within the first day of the landings, wondering how much more he'd see before the wars end.

Jack hurried towards the body of a dead German as the rest took weapons and supplies from American and German dead alike. Laying his helmet and carbine down beside the body he announced. "Hey! I promised my brother I'd get him a luger, so I got first dibs, okay?!"

The troopers hit the dirt as a series of deep rumbles passed low over the clearing. "It's the navy." Lito said pushing magazines for his Garand into any spare pockets. More rumbles passed over them into the distance, their impacts sounding like distant thunder.

Winters dropped his Kar98 next to a German body. "The landings have started. Let's go."

"Let's move it out!" Lito shouted following Winters.

"Right on time." Rode said looking at his watch.

"Yeah? Tell that to him, cowboy." DeWitt pointed at a dead trooper as he got up from searching.

"My name's Rode."

"That so?" DeWitt replied sarcastically.

Fowler walked next to the disgruntled Rode. "You just have to learn to return his fire, that's all." He said quietly.

"You have to realize it isn't about you…" Blackburn interjected in an exasperated tone as he strode past the pair.

Fowler shook his head at the interruption. "I just heard his brother—"

"Jack, shut yer yap!" DeWitt said angrily as he passed the pair heading for the front of the group. Fowler switched to the other side of the path to avoid a steaming corpse of a cow. "His brother bit the dust at Casino. Found out before we jumped."

"Damn."

It was nearly noon by the time Winters' rag tag group reached their objective. Walking up the long muddy road to the farm Winters spotted a group of dishevelled German soldiers sitting on the road side, a 101st paratrooper watching over them rifle in hand.

"Morning sir." The soldier smiled. "Battalion sure will be happy to see you guys."

"Where?"

"At the farm, sir."

Winters nodded his thanks to the trooper, walking on towards the farm.

Taking a left, Winters and his men were greeted by the sight of dead carthorses lining the road, forming a wall of steaming dead meat across the entrance to the farm. A pair of 101st was fiddling with a chain as a French farmer atop his tractor waited for them to attach it to its rear. The farm was packed with troopers of the 82nd and the 101st resting, eating rations and talking.

A small huddle of 101st troopers waved at the approaching group from atop a small grassy hill.

"Blackburn! Hey Frankie!"

"Hey, Jack!"

The men looked to their Lieutenant expectantly.

"Carry on." Winters waved them on.

Two of 101st atop the knoll slid down to greet them, smiles stretching ear to ear. "Hey E company!" one cried extending his hand. "Hey, Sands. Good to see you."

Sanderson returned the gesture shaking the man's hand. "Roger. This here is Rode; Able company"

"Also known as "Cowboy" DeWitt added loudly as he walked past.

Rogers's brow's shot up. "You from Texas?"

Rode shook his head. "Manhattan."

Winters walked through groups of milling paratroopers, his steps dogged by tiredness. Nearing another officer he lay his rifle down on a bullet hole ridden table.

"What's going on?" the officer asked.

"What's the hold up?" Winters countered looking at the time on his watch.

"Not sure-"

The sound of a field gun firing sounded nearby. Men throughout the farm fell silent turning to the sound as did Winters and the officer.

"Bet it's got something to do with that."

"Yeah…" Winters replied spacing out for a moment.

"Good to see you, Garen."

"Yeah, you too, Buck." Winters smiled shaking his friend's hand. His smile faded. "What's the situation?"

2nd Lieutenant Anders smile also disappeared. "Not good. Ninety per cent of the men are still unaccounted for."

That wasn't good. "Lt. Harrison?"

"No one's seen him or anyone from his plane." Anders said quietly. "You know, if he's missing, wouldn't that put you in line to be the next commander of E company?"

Winters didn't answer. Looking past Anders he saw another familiar face. "Hey, Lieutenant Sinclair." Sinclair shook Winters outstretched hand. "How many men of D company got assembled?"

2nd Lt Sinclair shrugged. "Handful, maybe 20."

"You're the only officer that made it?"

"So far…" Sinclair eyed the packet of cigarettes in 2nd Lt Jason Ander's hand as he threw it to a passing trooper. "Still waiting for orders. You got some cigarettes?"

"Yeah" Ander's pulled a spare pack from a hip pocket handing it Sinclair. Once Sinclair had it he walked off without a word of thanks.

"Hey, keep the pack!"

"Yeah, so I was in the plant in '40." The German soldier smiled sadly.

"That's when I was at Monarch, tooling tank tracks; no kidding!" Fowler laughed. "What are the chances of that, huh? You and me, a hundred miles apart from each other, working practically the same job…" he shook his head sadly. Fowler had found out that one of the prisoners Winters group passed was born in Oregan but returned with his family to Germany to answer the_ Volkdeutsche, _a call to all "true" Aryans to return to the fatherland_. _

Sanderson jogged down the waterlogged road to where the Germans were being held. "Hey, Jack! We're waiting on you!"

"Yeah! I'm coming!" Jack picked himself off the grassy hillside. "I gotta run. I'll see you around."

The young German soldier looked on as Jack legged it up the boggy road past 2nd Lieutenant Sinclair.

"Yeah, see you around…"

Sinclair drew on the cigarette in his mouth, exhaling a large cloud of white smoke as he approached the German soldiers. Stepping up on the side of the road he reached for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

"Zigaretten?" he said offering the pack to the sitting Germans.

A German approached him nervously reaching for a cigarette. "Here you go." The soldier nodded his thanks. "Danke, Thank you."

Sinclair closed his eyes as he lit his second cigarette. Opening his eye's he exhaled, a cold look in his grey eyes.

_Bra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta Bra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta_

Fowler was a hundred meters up the road when he heard the long bursts of automatic fire. He turned quickly, unslinging his rifle. As he looked down the road a look of disgust and shock passed over his face.

"Shit…"

A 101st paratrooper made his way quickly through the small clusters of socializing troopers. "Easy Company?" He said loudly. "Easy? Hey any of you guys know where Easy Company is?"

He made his way over to a small group of lounging troopers under a tree. "You seen Lieutenant Harrison?" he asked urgently.

Ander's sighed deeply as he cleaned his Thompson. "No, not yet."

"Well, Major Miller wants Easy Company's C.O. up front." The trooper looked between the two men in need of a quick answer.

Winters and Anders looked at each other. "Well I guess that means you, Garen." Ander said slapping Winters on the shoulder.

"Come on." The trooper said moving away. Winters folded the map he'd been reading then followed the messenger into the crowd.

"Son of a bitch." Anders hissed as another deep explosion rang out from the nearby field gun.

Blackburn sat quietly watching the day go by when Fowler stormed over his legs, dropping into the space beside him looking especially spooked.

Fowler reached into his rucksack getting his canteen out. While taking a swig he locked onto the figure of Lt Sinclair as he strode past him, smoke drifting lazily from his open mouth.

Major Miller was standing at a table with a large map spread across it. 1st Lieutenant Winters stood on his right. "There are some Kraut 88s up ahead. Up ahead to the right about three hundred yards, up through those gardens."

Miller's finger rested on a small group of red X's. "Now, they're right between us and Causeway number 2; firing on the boys landing at Utah." The Major looked at Winters who was studying the map intently.

"Think Easy can handle it?"

Winters nodded confidently.

"Yes, sir."


	4. Assault The Guns

2nd Lieutenant Sinclair walked through the open door to the stable, moving through groups socialising troopers retelling their own stories from the night. He joined the small group of men huddled about a table with a large map spread across its top.

"The 88s we've been hearing have been spotted in a field down the road a ways. Captain Miller wants us to take them out."

"There are two guns we know of, firing on Utah Beach." Winters drew a right angle, marking down to large X's next to the vertical line. "Plan on a third and a fourth here and here…" he placed an X where the lines joined and another towards the end of horizontal line.

"The Germans are in the trenches with access to the entire battery, with machine gun covering the rear."

He looked up at each man present, staring straight into their eyes. Though they were exhausted from their drops and a night full of evading German patrols and faced an assault on an enemy position with little or no information and with just a dozen men, they still returned the stare with the innate aggression that every paratrooper possessed.

"We'll establish a base of fire and move under it hard and fast with two squads of three."

"How many Krauts do you think we're facing?" DeWitt asked.

Winter faced DeWitt. "No idea."

DeWitt's brows shot up. "No idea?" He looked to Blackburn next to him who shrugged in response.

"We'll take some TNT along with us, to spike the guns. Lito, your responsibility."

"Yes, sir."

"Rogers, you'll take the first machine gun, with Taylor. Roberts, Carter, you take the other. Who does that leave?"

Anders, Fowler, Blackburn, DeWitt put their hands up.

"We'll be making the main assault. Understood?"

The men of Easy replied "Yes, sir."

Sgt Lito stepped forward. "All right, let's pack it up boys." Men placed helmets back on their heads, checked their weapons and ammo then moved outside. Rode stood in silence at the back of the group as they began to leave.

"Shouldn't you be outside with the other Able Company guys?" Blackburn said slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

"See you around, Rode." DeWitt called out as Easy men streamed past him. Rode opened his mouth to speak but stopped. Torn by choice he followed the small Company outside.

"Lito, when you see we've captured the first gun, I want you and your TNT as fast as possible!" Winters said dropping a bag of explosives next to the sergeant.

"Yes, sir."

The men of Easy were stuffing and slinging as many magazines and belts of ammo into their gear as possible. "Okay, just weapons and ammo, drop everything else!" The men were more than happy to relive themselves of their packs. Now they could carry more ammo and had more freedom in movement. "Got any spare ammo in a pack or a musette bag, bring it along!"

A trooper jogged up behind Winters as he checked his rifle over. "Lieutenant, sir?" the Trooper began. "I was wondering, sir, you need an extra hand?"

"What's your name, trooper?"

"Lorraine, sir"

"You're with me, Lorraine."

When Winters finished his prep he moved off towards Easy's objective. "Anders, 2nd squad."

Anders slapped a fresh magazine into his M1A1 Thompson. "Yes, sir!"

"All right, you heard the word. Let's move! Let's move!"

Moving past hedgerows men streamed down either side of a large vegetable patch towards the sounds of the guns which were now just over the next hedgerow. Sergeant Lito waved the line of men down when he came up to an old wreck of a truck sitting in the middle of the hedge. After taking a quick look over the top of it he turned to Winters, signalling for him to come forwards and observe.

Winters clambered into the front of the truck keeping low as possible. Intel was wrong as he guessed it would be. The guns that were firing weren't 88s but 105 howitzers instead. A single man stood outside the partially camouflaged gun looking through a rangefinder while men ran about the gun with various things in their arms.

To the left of the gun was a pair of men setting up a wall of sandbags around an MG42. Seeing enough, he backed out of the small cabin as St Lito signalled for men to take up positions behind the hedge. Winters ran down the side of the hedge towards Anders. "Let's go." he whispered. The pair jogged to where the machine gunners.

Moving between the guns Anders and Winters moved a few feet ahead. "Three cannons." Anders began as a 105 fired making them both duck. Winters took a quick look through the thin covering of leaves. Shuffling back to the gunners he said. "Rogers, we've got enfilading fire."

Winters moved away, leaving the gunners to set up.

"MG42's." Anders pointed at the fearsome weapon through a small gap in the bush as its handlers set it up.

"I'll draw their fire to the right from the truck. Take two men and hit them from the left." Said Winters. "Okay, go."

"Right."

Winters and Anders left for their positions for the imminent assault. Sgt Lito joined Winters when he emerged from the bush, leaning close to his CO as they crouched. "Take Ryman, envelop right, give covering fire." Lito nodded as Winters looked past him. "Lorraine, on the machine gun."

"Don't give away your position until you have to." Winters said to Sgt Lito. "And I want that TNT as soon as you we've captured the first gun. Go!"

Winters looked down the line to where the second MG was situated, signalling for them to hold position. Men along the line prepared themselves for the coming storm, checking weapons, ammo and their nerve.

Winters signalled for Anders to move ahead with the assault then took up position besides a tree next to the derelict truck. Through the trees' low hanging branches he saw a German machine gunner crack open a tin of ammo. He looked down at the machine gunners next to him.

"Go!" he whispered.

Lorraine fired sending a stream of .30s at the MG42 nest. The Germans ducked, let fly a stream of obscenities just after the sound of the Browning registered. Winters shouldered his Garand putting a round a second onto the target in an effort to suppress the gun.

"I can't see nothing." Ryman said in frustration as he and Sgt Lito searched for a place to provide covering fire. Both looked up at the tree next to them.

2nd Lt Anders, DeWitt and Fowler slowly moved through the undergrowth to the left of the MG42, getting ready to attack when they were within range.

Pulling himself up onto a thick branch, Ryman and Lito now sat at the top of the tree. Lito now had an extensive overview of the batteries layout. Just outside the first gun pit he saw a German going down for something near his feet. Unslinging his M1 Carbine he sighted the man squeezing off three successive shots. The first round blew the soldiers knee cap to shreds, the second and third disappeared into his chest. The German flopped forward onto the grass as two other gunners fired on Lito.

Rounds snapped past, smashing branches off the tree as Lito calmly returned fire. Lito looked down onto Winters who was struggling to reload his rifle as the MG42 saturated Winters position with fire.

Someone down the line fired on the MG42 drawing its fire away from Winters who finished loading.

"Come on, Anders…" he said as he leaned out again to fire.

Ander's waved the other two men down as they came up on the right of the MG42. Crawling along the ground a short distance he peeked around the edge of a bush. The gun was a dozen feet away blazing away at the rest of the assault group. Anders retuned to DeWitt and Fowler. Through a series of hand signs he gave the order for the pair to draw grenades and lob them at the gun.

Getting a grenade out he put a finger through the ring waiting for the others to do the same. Standing up the trio nodded to each other pulling the pins and lobbing them over the hedge in unison. A second later they went off in three deafening blasts that rendered the gun silent.

Anders picked up his Thompson bursting through the bush covering the short distance easily. Hopping down into the trench he saw a bleeding German gunner slumped against the side of the nest reaching for his MP40 by his side. Anders shouldered his weapon to fire. He pulled the trigger.

_Click! Click!_

The Thompson was jammed. "Ahh shit!" he hissed trying to free the blockage as the German struggled with the trigger of his own gun as Fowler came over the lip of the small ridge alongside the nest. The German writhed as three rounds slammed into his chest killing him.

The ground about Fowler's feet exploded as other Germans fired on him in his exposed position. In haste he jumped head first into the trench cracking his head against a discarded ammo box. Cursing loudly he picked himself up returning fire at distant figures.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Winters roared shouldering his way through the hedge sprinting for the first gun. "Follow me! Come on!"

The rest of the assault group burst from the hedgerow following Winters, the ground about them disintegrating as they charged through the bullet storm, firing back at the muzzle flashes. Private Sanderson screamed as he tumbled into the trench behind Blackburn who was engaging the fleeing Germans who'd abandoned the trench moments before, streaming across open ground to another trench.

Winters got up and looked over the other side of the trench. German soldiers where running away towards the other side of the battery. Lifting his rifle he fired at the retreating men. Anders flung a grenade at one at a near horizontal trajectory. The top half of the man disappeared in a cloud of smoke and flame in the subsequent explosion as it detonated in the small of his back.

DeWitt took four men down calmly with short bursts from his Thompson before he had to reload, leaving a fifth running for dear life. A few feet down the line Private Lorraine saw this and started fire at the fleeing man, every shot going wide of the mark.

"Jesus Christ!" DeWitt shouted slotting a new magazine, lining up the running German in his sights. A three round burst saw the man drop like a sack of potatoes. "Dumbass!" he chided, passing Lorraine as she reloaded.

"Shit! I'm sorry, sir!" Sanderson cried as he lay in the bottom of the trench. "I screwed up!"

Blackburn lay his weapon down to check on Sanderson. Winters ducked down when he heard a German exclaim to his left. Turning forty five degrees he saw a German soldier pull his arm back to throw something. Winters fired. The left side of the man's chest exploded as he loosed the grenade.

"Grenade!" Winters hollered hitting the ground. The grenade sailed over his head landing in the bend of the trench, right under an unaware Blackburn as he tended to Sanderson's wound. "Frank! Blackburn! Roll out! Roll out!"

Blackburn saw the grenade a second before it blew, diving onto Sanderson's back. Earth and wood erupted from the trench covering the prone troopers. Sanderson screamed at the added weight on his wound. "Get off!…" he wailed.

A few feet down the trench DeWitt looked up from his foetal position into the dirt cloud, earth cascading off his uniform. He looked on as Blackburn checked himself over for wounds finally grabbing his crotch; Blackburn breathed a sigh of relief.

"One lucky bastard, Frank." He said getting back to firing at the enemy.

Winters fired off the last round in the clip, the magazine flying out with a loud ping. Ducking down he peeked over the edge at the other guns as they fired another salvo at Utah beach. Pushing a new magazine into his rifle he moved down the trench past firing troopers. "DeWitt! Fowler! Lorraine! Secure that gun!" he ordered as he moved past.

The top of the trench snapped and jumped as rounds skimmed or bored into it as he moved down the trench.

"Ander's! Covering fire!"

"Yes, sir!"

Winters went down onto his knees as he came up to a turn in the trench. He saw two German gunners hastily setting up an MG42 in the bottom of the trench. Switching cover to the other side he fired at the men, dropping them swiftly he made his way back to where Sanderson had fallen.

Five 101st poured into the newly captured third gun pit at their head was 2nd Lieutenant Sinclair. "Winters!" Sinclair dropped down next to Winters. Around his neck were belts of .30 cal for the browning's and bandoliers for the rest. "Miller said you needed ammo!" He said throwing the bandoliers down next to Winters.

"Fowler!" Winters shouted picking the much needed ammo up and handing it to the waiting Fowler. "Take as much as you can for everyone!"

Fowler kneeled behind Sinclair who was busy firing taking the belts and bandoliers before he set off for the rest of the group.

"Mind if my lot takes a shot at the next gun?"

"All yours." He said watching the fidgeting Sinclair as he turned back to the waiting men behind him. "Let's go!"

"Huaah!" the men chorused as they passed around the howitzer following the officer to the final German controlled gun.

"Anders!" Winters shouted jumping the gun to watch from the edge of the pit. Anders joined him just as Sinclairs men flung their grenades at the pit. "Who is that? Sinclair?"

German gunners seeing the coming attack abandoned their gun running for their fellows on the other side of the field. The five men were running down the trench when Sinclair and two others suddenly climbed out proceeding to run along the outside of the trench. "What's he doing outside the trench!?" Winters exclaimed

The trio had only made a few feet before the second man took a round in the side of his head which prompted a barrage from the American soldiers that were watching the assault.

Sinclair disappeared from view, taking cover behind the trees in front of the gun leaving the three other men in view to press the attack. The third man fell flat on his face as a German emptied his MP40 into him. The sharp crack of a M1 rang out close to Winters. The German reeled back, blood spurting from his shattered forehead.

Winters and Ander looked left and saw Blackburn nearby rifle propped up on the sandbag wall. "Got him." He said coldly as he sighted another fleeing gunner.

Both officers turned back in time to see a paratrooper step into the pit. "What the hell is he doing?!" The man saw a German pull his arm and throw a grenade but he moved to late. The man screamed as the explosion threw him clear of the pit. "Oh Jesus…" Ander sighed backing away, unimpressed with the half cocked attack.

A helmetless Sinclair ran into the empty pit then waved back at Winters. Winter gave a thumbs up ducking when a round slapped into the wall next to him. Sgt Lito slumped down next to him breathless. "Sir" he began, getting his TNT out. "Had a little trouble getting through that first field."

Winters pointed to the smoking Howitzer. Lito rolled his eyes at the sight of its shattered barrel. "We're gonna need it at the next gun. Once it's blown, pull out. Go!"

"Yes, sir!"


	5. Man Down

"Where you hit, Sandie?" Ander's asked the groaning trooper as he slapped a fresh mag into his Thompson.

"I can't believe I got shot in the ass!" Sanderson moaned gritting his teeth as a new wave of pain assaulted him.

"Your ass?!" Ander's said hopping over him laying his gun down. He laid eyes on the wound in the private's rear. "Oh damn!"

Winters kneeled down next to the wounded Sanderson. "Sands, How bad is it?"

"I'm sorry, s-sir…" he stuttered. "I-I didn't mean to mess up. I don't…I don't thinks it's too bad."

Anders' pointed his finger at the edge of the trench. Winters nodded. "You think can make it back yourself?" he asked the prone trooper.

"I-I think so, sir."

Winter laid his rifle down as Anders helped Sanderson put on his helmet. "All right, here we go. Drop your weapon, Sandie, drop your weapon!" he said as Winters helped get Sanderson across Anders shoulders.

"Come on! One, two, three!" Rounds plastered the edge of the trench as Anders and Winters pushed Sanderson over the lip of the trench into a small gully. "Get down, Garen, get down!" Anders warned as Sanderson scrambled away from the trench, holding his helmet to his head. "Sands!" his rifle came flying out of the trench landing next to him, grabbing it, he crawled away.

"Winters! One o'clock!" Anders hollered dropping his Thompson reaching for a grenade. Pulling back his arm to throw it, Blackburn brushed past him knocking it from his hands. "Grenade!" Anders bellowed pulling himself out of the trench. "Blackburn! Let's go! Get out of there! Get out of there!" Anders grabbed hold of Blackburn's arm as he disappeared in a cloud of dirt.

"Blackburn!"

Winters jumped back into the trench next to a mud covered Blackburn. "Frank?" Winters grabbed hold of the mumbling trooper's uniform as he sat up. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed. "That's twice!"

Rounds from a German soldier in a shell crater a dozen meters away pinged of the artillery gun as DeWitt, Fowler and Lorrain lay pressed shoulder to shoulder in the limited cover that the first gun pit offered. "Jesus Christ! Lorraine, go!" Lorraine shuffled to the left quickly as DeWitt got to a knee firing from the hip at the German soldier as did Fowler.

"Ryman, let's move!" Lito shouted down from the top of the tree. "They got the first gun!" Both men scrambled down through the tree to join with their comrades.

Winters, Anders and Blackburn crept through the empty trenches slipping into a small enclosed machine gun pit just down from the next howitzer. The soldiers about the gun were embroiled in a fire fight with the rest of the paratroopers across the field. "There's the second gun." Winters said forcefully. "Grenades first, then keep going. Go!"

The three stopped before the corner going into the pit, two with a grenade in hand. Winters looked to Anders then Blackburn. Both nodded that they were ready. Anders pulled the pin of his grenade holding its lever down. "Okay."

"Go!" Winters sprinted around the corner screaming as he ran at the gun. Anders tossed his grenade in a flat trajectory at the gun a second before Blackburn. Both went off a split second before Winters stepped into the pit.

The Germans that survived the grenades scrambled from the pit scared out of their wits. Winters fired at the fleeing men whilst Anders and Blackburn cleared any resistance with their Thompsons. Winters dropped a man in two shots as the man next to him rose, arms above his head.

"_Nicht schießen! Nicht schießen!" _he shouted frantically.

"Shut up." Blackburn said levelling his gun at the German.

The soldier started to wave his arms about wildly. "_Nicht schießen! Nicht schießen!" _

"Shut up!"

"_Nicht schießen! Nicht schießen!"_

"Shut the fuck up!" Blackburn bellowed the muzzle of his gun a few inches from the Germans face.

"No make dead! No make-" Blackburn slammed a brass knuckle punch into the man's face knocking him out cold. "Blackburn, stay down! Stay down!" Anders said pushing him into cover as a few rounds ricocheted off of the artillery piece.

"Anders!" Winters called out firing back at the Germans. Anders came up behind him getting into the shadow of the gun with Winters. "We must be doing something right. Look" Winters pointed across the field at one of the two remaining guns. "We got them so confused; they're firing on the third gun!" The forth gun pit was firing on the third that was still under German command must to the horror of the men there.

Ander smiled at the utter chaos. "We better blow this thing before they figure out what the hell is happening."

"I'm gonna go and see what's keeping Lito." Winters got up backing away from the gun keeping low.

"All right. Frankie! Cover the lieutenant!"

The sandbag wall Fowler leaned against for cover shook violently as machinegun lashed it repeatedly. Slotting a new magazine into his carbine spotted what he thought was a luger grip jutting out of dead Germans belt a dozen yards away. "I think one of those dead krauts has a Luger!"

"So what!?" DeWitt replied pressing himself into cover, rounds snapping through the air over his head.

Behind them Taylor and Rodgers kept low as they scrambled up to the sandbags in front of the howitzer.

"Keep your head low, Rods!" Taylor threw a box of ammo into the gun pit before he followed it with Rodgers in tow, cradling a browning in his arms. "Give a little suppressing fire, why don't you!" he shouted as Fowler left the pit sprinting for the corpse.

"Jesus Christ!" Rodgers exclaimed as a round slammed into his MG knocking him over.

Fowler dived at the body landing next to it. Grabbing the luger his body went cold. It wasn't a Luger. It was some sort of instrument or telescope. Fowler started to rifle through the dead Germans pockets.

"Now you stop firing? Beautiful!"

"Christ, they must think he's a medic or something!" Rodgers exclaimed setting his Browning up across the tail of the howitzer.

"He's gonna need a goddamn medic!" DeWitt retorted wondering what the hell Fowler was doing.

"Okay, okay, okay…" Fowler whispered to himself thinking desperately how he was going to get out of this sticky situation with his body parts still attached. Pushing off the corpse in front of him he got up running for the gun pit. "Fowler!" tracer rounds fizzled past Fowler as he ran in a zig zag to throw off their aim.

"Stay low! What the hell is he doing!?" Taylor raised his rifle to fire back at the Germans but Fowler repeatedly ran across his line of sight. Fowler swore slipping on the wet turf. "Come on!" DeWitt bellowed itching to fire back. Regaining his footing he ran the last few yards, diving head first into the pit. DeWitt, Taylor and Rodgers opened up unleashing wave of lead on the German positions.

Fowler slumped against the pits wall exhausted from his lung busting run. "Forgot your frigging Luger!?" DeWitt said chidingly squeezing off a few shots. "Should I go get it for you, ya stupid bastard!" DeWitt emptied his magazine at a distant silhouette grinning as it folded over, disappearing into the trench.

"Where's Lito with that TNT?!" Winters shouted over the gunfire.

"Don't know, sir!"

"You'll be alright, Sands." Sgt Lito said emptying a sachet of Sulphanilamide onto Sanderson's bloody backside.

"I'm sorry I messed up…"

"Don't be sorry."

"Hey, sarge?"

"Yeah?"

"You think this is a ticket home?"

"Maybe." Lito said bluntly nudging Ryman motioning him forward across the field. Both men left the wounded Sanderson as they made their way to the raging fire fight.

"Shit, I just got here…"

DeWitt struggled with an awkward magazine that refused to slot into his Thompson. Across from him Captain Duncan suddenly dropped into pit followed by a grim faced Rode. "Hiya, Cowboy!" DeWitt shouted happily, the wayward magazine finally sticking.

"Shut your trap, DeWitt" Rode replied angrily pressing himself deeper into the wall as bullets lashed the gun pit.

"He's all right, that kid!" DeWitt grinned turning to Fowler next him who was grinning also at the reply.

"Jesus, you got a whole Kraut platoon out there!" the Captain warned Winters looking through his binoculars at the other side of the field.

"Probably more, Captain!" Winters replied flippantly letting off another magazine.

"Need help?"

Casings from Fowlers carbine pinged off of Winters helmet as he sat back down in the pit trying to feed a fresh clip into his M1. "I need ammo, sir! Lots of it!" the sandbags above his head exploded, showering him in cloth and sand. "And TNT!"

"I got TNT, sir!" Rode shouted producing a bad laden with the said explosives.

Winters nodded his head in approval. "Good job, private!" Winters jabbed a finger at the silent gun. The rest of the men rose up to supress as both troopers moved to the front of the gun.

Rode shoved blocks of TNT down the barrel of the gun flinching whenever a bullet passed to close for comfort.

"Hall! Ready!"

"Sir, I don't have any way to set in off, sir!" Rode called out ducking under the barrel of the howitzer as Winters moved to the Germans soldiers abandoned gear scattered in front of the gun. Overturning a small box, grenades spilled out over the ground. Taking one of the "potato mashers" he quickly unscrewed the cap that held the grenades string trigger. Standing up he pushed it into the gun large muzzle. Yanking on the string he pushed it down the barrel as far as he could. Scuttling away from the gun Winters shouted. "Fire in the hole!"

Every man in the gun pit stopped firing, hugging the ground as close as they could. The grenade and TNT blew a second later blowing the howitzers barrel into a smoking wreck.

"Rodgers! Covering fire! Third gun here!" Winters ordered slapping the gunner on the back as he set up on the sand bag wall. "Lorraine, grab some of those potato mashers and follow me!" Winters got up to run to the next gun pit. "Fowler, Rode, you two, go!"

Rodgers opened fire, Winters moved low and fast through the trench rounds zipping and snapping through the air about his head, flinching when the ground next to his face exploded. He rose up letting off a few rounds at the distant flashes. Ducking back down he stepped over the body of a slumped German with his innards hanging out his side.

The four reached the gun without casualties. Winters kneeled behind Anders who busy returning fire. Laying a hand on Anders shoulder, Anders ducked down behind the howitzers massive wheel. "Running a little low on ammo, sir!" he said in greeting.

Winters turned to Fowler as he sat down next to him. "How about you, Fowler?"

"Okay!"

Winters shook Anders shoulder. "Think you got enough to take the third gun?!" he hollered over the gunfire.

"We'll soon find out, Garen." Anders looked forwards at the next gun. "Fowler, let's go! Blackburn, cover us!" Winters looked on as both men stepped over the supports of the gun towards the third howitzer. "Okay, Rode. Keep your head down." Rode nodded past Blackburn who was laying accurate fire on the next pit with his Thompson as he went to follow the others.

"Hall! Leave your TNT!" Winters pointed at the satchel of explosives in the trooper's hand. Rode dropped the bag then ran after Anders and Fowler, heading through the trench as the pair ran outside of it. Winters set about blowing the gun, shoving block of TNT down the gun barrel followed by a live grenade.

"Fire in the hole!"


End file.
